Calendar Days
by drinktea
Summary: She looked back at the calendar, the words glowing at her. They were written in Cloud's slanted print. The pen must have died, because 'TIFA'S B' was written in blue and 'IRTHDAY' was in black. CloTiDenLene family dynamic, Vincent cameo.
1. In Which Denzel is a Walrus

_Disclaimer: Compliation of FFVII does not belong to me._

Author natterings: (There is no specific reasoning behind the title. I am bad at coming up with titles.) I wrote this yesterday because I felt like writing the adorable dyanamic of "CloTiDenLene". (I came up with that 'word' on my own, you know.) Then it just exploded when I realized it was Tifa's birthday and Vincent got in there and so did Cloud's Socially Awkwardness. I'm thinking this should blossom into something bigger. I'm in complete love with the Advent Children continuum. Reviews are great if you're in the mood to give one. Thanks for reading!

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You could track a life in many ways, Tifa thought. She stood in the cold of the open refrigerator, letting it chill her bare calves. She lifted carrots from the vegetable bin and placed them on the countertop, and swung the refrigerator door shut with a leg.

You could track a life through garbage. You could see if a person lived alone, or if a person lived with someone else, two someone elses, three someone elses. The volume increased, the variety of _stuff_ increased. Tifa pulled out the garbage bin from under the sink and peeled carrot skins.

Denzel used to throw out bandages. Bandages, bandages, bandages. Now he parted with broken toys, botched portraits, and old underwear. He would also occasionally sneak some asparagus into the disposal when Cloud and Tifa weren't looking.

Marlene threw away bits of paper from cut-out snowflakes. Dried-up gluesticks. Tape that stuck together and could not be pried apart. Marlene did not throw away much.

Cloud threw out empty toothpaste tubes and useless mail. He didn't throw away much either. How else did his office get so cluttered, do you think? Pictures and letters galore stayed tucked in drawers or pinned to walls to fade with sunlight. Old clothes were cut up and made into rags to wipe the bar countertop with, to shine motorcycles with.

Tifa threw out empty bottles that once held alcohol, brooms with worn out bristles, flowers she had kept until they wilted completely. Some things were too precious to throw away. Boxes that once held earrings that she always wore now. Red ribbons the perfect length to tie around an arm, too worn out to keep on. Some things she held onto for as long as she could.

Tifa hit the bottom of the dressing bottle, dressing came slowly out. She turned it right side up and screwed the cap back on. She made her way up the stairs in her ankle socks, the fabric muting her steps on the wood.

Denzel was in a highly funny stance that Tifa speculated was supposed to be mirroring battle stances warriors took. Marlene had a doubtful look on her face, her feet together and hands hovering midair.

"Are you sure, Denzel?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"Marlene, Denzel. Have something to eat."

They whirled to take in Tifa standing in the doorway, now crossing through the middle of the room. She had a plate in both hands, upon which carrots and dressing and pretzels were all balancing (well, the dressing was more wobbling). She carried the plate in both hands and not one. Subconsciously, she did this because she served patrons at her bar with platters balanced on one hand.

Denzel hopped energetically over to the sensible beside table and picked up a carrot, cut small enough for his small teeth. He was losing some now, actually, and whenever he placed one under his pillow, sure enough, the gil appeared the next morning. He bit into the carrotstick.

"I'm getting water, okay?" Marlene asked generally, and half-ran to the top of the flight of steps.

"I'll come," Tifa called after her, but not before grabbing a carrotstick and dunking it in the dressing.

"Me too," Denzel said through a mouthful of carrot, and proceeded to tag along.

When they came down one by one, they were greeted with the sight of Cloud standing at the calendar.

"Hi, Cloud," Marlene said.

"Cloud," Tifa said.

"We're getting water," Denzel said.

"When did you get home?" Tifa asked, deviating just a bit from her original plan. Behind her, Denzel started to climb the counter to get a cup for Marlene.

Cloud had a hand in his hair, rubbing at the side of his head. "Just now. I'm surprised you didn't hear." He smiled a little at her.

"We were all upstairs," she told him. Most days, they heard the rumble of the Fenrir signalling Cloud's arrival back home. Marlene and Denzel sometimes hid from Cloud, and Cloud always played along.

Now, Tifa looked to the calendar to possibly decipher what Cloud had been doing before they had arrived.

When her eyes landed on the date, she was surprised that she was surprised. She had known it since she had awoke, but seeing it in black print reminded her.

Cloud saw this as well. So, he said "May third."

"Tifa's birthday!" trilled a girlish voice to the right of them.

Tifa smiled a little at this, at Marlene's sheer happiness and excitement for the birthday of a person she cared about. She looked back at the calendar, the words glowing at her. They were written in Cloud's slanted print. The pen must have died, because _TIFA'S B_ was in blue and _IRTHDAY_ was in black.

"How old is Tifa?" Denzel asked, his face upturned towards Cloud. Tifa's smile fell a little. It was silly to be sad, she thought to herself. But it _was_ her he was asking about. He didn't need to ask Cloud.

"Twenty three," Cloud said with certainty, a shade of something hidden in his voice. He saw it too, even more how it affected Tifa. He bent down on one knee, a hand on the linoleum. Denzel read the gesture in a second and walked into Cloud's open arms. He hugged Cloud loosely.

"Twenty three!" Denzel beamed at Tifa now, and she had to push away the previous sadness at this sight. His smile was a rare thing. Actually, Denzel was almost suspiciously happy today. But then, Cloud was home early.

"Twenty three," Tifa echoed. Then, after another glance at the calendar - "Let's go finish those carrots."

"Right!" Marlene sprinted up the stairs, miraculously not spilling her water everywhere. Denzel followed, moving fluidly out of Cloud's arms.

Tifa sighed and dug into the sore muscles of her lower back with her knuckles, preparing to tail them.

"You're not sad about turning twenty three, are you?" Cloud asked from behind her. She realized belatedly that she was still looking at the staircase, now empty.

She spun, dropping her hand from her back. "No. Does it seem that way to you?" And she surprised herself by laughing lightly.

Cloud's eyes brightened - she loved it when they did that. "No. You just don't seem like you want to talk about it."

"Hm." She tilted her head thoughtfully to the side, exposing one teardrop earring and the line of her neck. "There's not much to say. We're not celebrating until Saturday anyway, when there's no work to distract us." She grinned as she said this though, to show that it wasn't a complete attack on Cloud's famous work ethic.

"Says the combination bartender, sensei and supermom." Cloud raised an eyebrow back at her.

"Nice, Strife, you know the teaching was just one time." If she was eight years old, she would be sticking out her tongue right now. "And that was because your punch was _terrible_."

"It wasn't that bad--"

"_Terrible_," she repeated, fixing the blonde with a serious look.

Then they both simultaneously burst into smiles.

The bell above the door chimed.

"Hello-- Vincent!"

"Hello," Vincent greeted the pair, raising his eyebrows. Their smiles were million-watt ones - something had been going on. Well, all the better for Cloud, he supposed...

"What are you doing here?" Tifa asked, obviously surprised. "Not that you aren't welcome, of course."

Vincent turned his raised eyebrows solely on Cloud now. "I believe that Cloud could clarify."

Cloud turned to Tifa, his blue eyes looking straight into hers. His expression was of barely contained excitement, and it was sweet in the purest way to see. He took a breath in. "He's filling in for you."

Tifa was confused immediately. When neither of the two men spoke, she vocalized a theory. "Vincent is teaching you a proper right hook...?"

Vincent made a sound that may or may not have been a snort.

Cloud let out a short laugh, then rumpled his brow, sweet intentions still dominant on his face. He was a little disappointed Tifa hadn't caught on as quickly as he'd thought. "Vincent is managing the bar tonight."

The veil of confusion was slowly lifted from Tifa's face, replaced with an impressed look. She looked from Vincent to Cloud to Vincent again. She opened her mouth to speak. "So you're giving me the night off?"

"Yes," Cloud said, the wrinkle of his brow disappearing instantly. Surely, she understood by now. She was impressed, even!

Vincent nodded silently in agreement and began to remove his cape, fingers dealing swiftly with the buckles.

Cloud was just about to grab Tifa's hand to leave when--

Said hand jolted forward along with its owner. Tifa was walking toward Vincent, taking his cape and folding it carefully. Cloud watched this with a mildly bewildered face. Maybe she didn't understand...?

"You know how to mix all the drinks, right? You remember from last time? Seventh Heaven special is--"

"I remember, Tifa," Vincent assured her in placating tones. Vincent didn't even bother to raise his eyebrows at Cloud this time.

Cloud responded by taking a step forward. "Tifa--"

"Mister Valentine!" Marlene exclaimed from the stairwell, looking like all her Christmases had come at once. She turned to call up the stairwell. "Denzel! Mister Valentine's here!"

There was a beat of silence. Cloud contemplated saying something again, but proved too slow against Denzel's thundering down the stairs. When Denzel arrived, he had two carrotsticks sticking out from beneath his lips like--

"I'm a walrus, Vincent!" Denzel sped across the wood floor to Vincent, his socks providing little friction enough so he could slide.

"Denzel, that's dangerous," Tifa told him.

"Vincent thinks it's cool, right, Vincent?" the redhead asked, his orange 'tusks' still in place.

"It's dangerous," Vincent said with his usual economy, though there was a note of tenderness in that voice, somewhere. "You should eat those."

Denzel laughed and took them out while Marlene giggled in the background.

"It's been awhile since you've been over, Vincent," Tifa said fondly. "We should all sit and catch up while there's no one here, hm?"

Cloud worked his mouth in silence.

"Cloud thinks so, too, see?" Tifa laughed, attributing his look of mild perplexity to Denzel's recent skating show.

"Yes, I can see that," Vincent replied dryly. Vincent looked at Cloud as if to say, _Just how much of a loser are you, anyway?_

"Tifa..." Cloud tried not to squeak as all other occupants of the household brushed past.

He was too quiet, and Tifa hadn't heard. "We're celebrating Saturday," she was responding to some (probably _so_ not funny) comment Vincent had made. The collective gust stirred by all of their walking lifted up the pages of the wall calendar. Cloud followed them.

"Vincent, I want a juice."

"I'll drop in, then," Vincent said to Tifa as he emptied the container of Denzel's favourite juice. Garbage.

"Thank you."

"Why is your cup so big?"

"Because _I'm_ big."

"No, you're not."

"At seven."

"Alright."

"Barret's coming too. Cid is, I think. Yuffie--"

"Tifa," said Cloud. She turned to him in response.

Cloud also noticed that all other conversation had stopped. Denzel bit into a carrotstick.

Cloud cleared his throat. "Tifa, we should... let's... could we go upstairs?"

"Oh... kay," she said, not even hiding her look of skepticism. She came out from behind the bar promptly though, her long hair trailing behind her as she walked to him. Marlene blinked at Cloud thoughtfully as this happened.

"Come on." He thought about taking her hand, but dropped the thought as quick as it had come. He felt her presence behind him as he climbed the stairs, and led her to their shared room. Over the past few weeks, those beds were being pushed slightly closer to the middle of the room. Cloud felt like a little boy for mentally blushing and hoping that it would continue.

She had left the door slightly ajar. "Cloud?"

He looked over from the gap between doorframe and door to her face. She was always pretty, the kind of girl who favoured natural beauty over anything else. But right now he wished there was a little gloss on her lips, a simple coat of polish on her nails. Anything to indicate that she knew that he wanted to take her somewhere nice.

"Cloud? What's going on?" One of her eyebrows was piqued.

A pause. "It's your birthday," he blurted, his brain apparently not connected to his mouth anymore.

Now she looked quite amused. The warmth displayed on her face did indeed seep into her tone. "Yes, Cloud. It's my birthday."

He started a lot of sentences in his head. But none could phrase this exactly the way he wanted. He was sure he 'umm'ed a lot. He unconsciously tugged off his arm covering.

Tifa waited, tilting her head so it moved her hair, so her hair stirred her scent into the air. Their neighbours were karaokeing.

"So we should go out," Cloud said. "I mean- it's your birthday. So we should go out. To dinner." Why did he feel the need to double his breathing?

She furrowed her brow. "But, we're already--"

"Yeah, but... but it's your birthday. Your real birthday." He crumpled the fabric of his sleeve nervously in his hand. "We should... do something special." He bit the inside of his lip. "The two of us."

The bass of a pop song filled the short silence.

"Oh," she said softly.

Cloud looked briefly at the floor.

"Well, get out so I can change, then," she told him, and placed a palm between his shoulderblades to push him out into the hallway.


	2. In Which Cloud Shares His Suitjacket

_Disclaimer: Compliation of FFVII does not belong to me._

Author natterings: This took far longer than I expected. Holy moly. I am sorry for the wait, to those who had this on alert. I may or may not add to this with other notable calendar days. This all depends on my urge to write, I suppose. I like to think this chapter is sweet. Feel free to tell me what you think!

**Calendar Days**

You could track a life in many ways, Vincent thought. Being Vincent though, he had to think of a completely convoluted method. But really, it was more that the complexity of the method helped him to better stand the shrieking ringing in his ears.

He thought of those old murder mysteries where one acquaintance of a person led to a another acquaintance, which led to an estranged relative, which led to a traitorous husband or some sort.

Today, Vincent had come into contact with a grand total of eight people. From the morning: the cleaning lady at the hotel, who bumped her funny bone on the doorknob as she closed it, and cussed prettily. The lady picking up her morning newspaper from in front of her hotel room door, leaning over far too much and exposing herself. (Vincent, gentleman that he was, looked away and as a result almost bumped into an ice dispenser.) The hotel checkout clerk, the overseer of the ship that landed him in Edge. Each could give some snippet of information about Vincent. The cleaning lady could say that she had cleaned his room for two days. The newspaper lady could say that he must be a little spacey because he almost hit his head. The checkout clerk could say that he checked out at precisely 8:02 am, May third. And the ship commander could say that they had an interesting conversation, and that Vincent really knew his mechanics. It was like a trail.

Marlene and Denzel could say he arrived to take care of them and manage a bar single-handedly. Tifa could say that his cape was looking tattered and he should get a new one. Cloud could say he called Vincent at the beginning of the week to request a favour.

Which was, if Vincent recalled correctly, over the high-pitched voices still ringing in his brain, something like: _Hi, Vincent. It's Tifa's birthday Thursday. We're celebrating, all of us, Saturday. Could you come over to watch the bar a few days early? I finally grew a pair and realized the woman I live with and have two children with likes me, and I like her. 'Kay, thanks, bye._

Vincent furrowed his brow at the rememberance of this. It was also partially because of the sudden water dripping from his face.

"Oh!" Marlene gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Mister Valentine!"

"Vincent!" Denzel exclaimed, turned the tap shut, and zipped around the counter to get a cloth.

"It's fine," Vincent told them, water dripping from the point of his nose.

"Here." A dark square of cloth was thrust into his face.

"Thank you, Denzel," Vincent said, taking the cloth.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mister Valentine," Marlene apologized and edged across the countertop toward him, her small hand grasping the cloth as well and rubbing his cheek. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," Vincent said, meaning it. "It's my fault for not paying more attention."

"It's mine!" Marlene insisted, rubbing his forehead with vigor. "And Denzel's. He shouldn't have turned the tap on when I had the nozzle out."

Denzel seemed to puff up with indignation, but realized the futility. "Yeah, it's mine too, Mister Valentine." He climbed onto his stool and took ahold of the cloth as well.

By this point, Vincent had given up on wiping his own face and now concentrated on just scrunching it behind the cloth. His hands were at his side, and he tried not to jerk his head back at Denzel and Marlene's drying techniques. They both rubbed far too hard...

"The both of you can stop..."

"Vincent?" Cloud's inquisitive voice.

Both Denzel and Marlene froze, the dark cloth still over Vincent's face.

"Why... are Marlene and Denzel washing your face for you?" Tifa's voice, a trace of laughter.

Vincent coughed in embarassment from behind the cloth, and the fabric blew outward as a result. Both Tifa and Cloud stifled a laugh, barely.

Marlene and Denzel sensed that now would be the time to drop the cloth. So they did.

Vincent was sure his face was mildly pink. But he could attribute that to the fact that several layers of his skin were probably peeled off. "They were helping me wipe away some water."

"Sorry, Vincent," Denzel said quietly, his body half-turned in his seat.

"Sorry," Marlene said as well.

"Apology accepted," Vincent told them both as warmly as he could, despite the events of the past five minutes. They both smiled at him. Really, he should not have fallen so easily for their childish charm. They helped him feel better though, and he'd never openly admit it to anyone, but he did, on some level, like taking care of them. Vincent walked them out from behind the bar, then stopped in front of Cloud and Tifa. Both Marlene and Denzel left for the kitchen, knowing exactly why Tifa was holding a purse and why Cloud had on his formal slacks.

Tifa's eyes were bright as she strode forward. Hanging from the hand she extended to Vincent was a bracelet. "Thank you so much, Vincent," she said honestly, traces of laughter still evident in her voice. After shaking his hand, she gave him a brief hug and stepped aside, her skirt swirling.

"Happy birthday," he wished her, to which she smiled.

"Thanks, Vincent," Cloud said as well, coming forward and placing a hand on Vincent's shoulder. Vincent nodded in response.

"You should be going," Vincent told them both. He nodded at the clock above the calendar.

Cloud stepped away to join Tifa. He pulled open the door and let in the nighttime air.

"Bedtime's nine-thirty! And we should be back before the bar closes," Tifa added, calling over her shoulder, her hair sweeping the air. Cloud was already smiling.

"Enjoy yourselves," Vincent said, nodding firmly.

They both waved goodbye. Cloud shut the door behind them.

--------

Outside, Cloud stopped hesistantly in front of Fenrir. Tifa came up alongside him, eyeing the motorcycle, then Cloud.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

He turned to face her, his eyes nearly glowing in the coming moonlight. "Do you mind walking tonight?" he asked, taking her by surprise.

"No," she answered honestly.

Cloud pointed his dress shoes in the right direction, and they started down the sidewalk together. For once, his arm was covered completely in cloth. He couldn't feel the warmth of hers.

"I didn't think it would really fit, tonight," Cloud was saying suddenly.

"What wouldn't fit?" she asked, looking at him for a response. She was such a good listener, even on her own birthday, even at the start of a maybe-maybe-not _date_.

"Riding a motorcycle," he laughed. The machine had never really struck him as masculine before, but he knew it was. Maybe it was just because Tifa was so distinctly _feminine_ tonight, with her flowy skirt and her added bracelet and her lip gloss that didn't change the (nice) colour of her lips.

"Well," she started, making a sort of slyness evident in her voice, "What _did_ you have planned tonight?"

Cloud blinked his baby blues at her pointedly. "Oh, no. You've got to wait and see."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Darn."

They shared a small laugh together. The sound echoed into the sky.

"What's it like, being twenty three?" Cloud asked, nudging her arm with his clothed elbow.

"I don't know, you tell me," she smiled at him.

"Twenty three's good. Except for the whole--"

"--fanatical silver-haired men thing," she finished, sensing what he would say. She got it right, of course. "Yeah, that wasn't so hot."

"And the- what, third time I've had to kill Sephiroth." He was still smiling, though it was somewhat dimmed now. "And geostigma."

"A very full twenty third year for Cloud Strife," Tifa concluded, nodding her head. He nodded along.

Their steps were suddenly loud in the silence. They were nearing one of the busier parts of the city, and there were people flitting on and off the sidewalk. Dim streetlights lit the way, yellow through their casings. Tifa cast a glance Cloud's way. The full moon sat on his shoulder.

"I was scared when I found that bandage in the church," she said absently. "But I was more scared not knowing what was happening with you." She looked at the moon. It was bright, contesting for her attention with the blue of Cloud's eyes.

He looked her way. He replied in kind, serious but with lips still curved up the _slightest_ bit- "I was scared when I found _you_ in the church. All those damaged benches, and I knew something bad had happened."

Cloud's eyes won out. She looked right into them.

"Everyone is precious to me," he said, "but I think... you're a different kind of precious."

Tifa's eyes widened and she bit her lip, hard, unintentionally. "Ow!" she exclaimed, surprised by the pain, hand flying to her mouth.

"What?" Cloud asked, eyes dancing skittishly over her face, trying to assess what was wrong.

"I just bit my lip," she answered him, looking down at the sidewalk, embarassment probably burning on her face. Why, just when Cloud was telling her something so... powerfully sincere, when they were as close as could be to a profession of something _more_...

He surprised her by lowering her hand from her face, his hand gentle. His thumb was on the soft underside of her wrist, fingers on top. He was walking partially backward to look her in the eyes. "You look great to me," he said, and it was shy, weighted with honesty.

She was so glad he was him. She smiled at him smiling at her, and they did not stop smiling, even though it wasn't full blast, even when they walked through the doors of the restaurant and sat down at an outdoor table and the waiters talked to them.

"Could we get some wine?" Cloud asked the waiter, breaking his gaze with Tifa temporarily.

"Of course. Red?"

"Yes," he replied, simply. Tifa noticed the contrast between Cloud-talking-to-her and Cloud-talking-to-other-people. She didn't know whether to feel pleased or not, but the thought only occured to her very faintly, and it was swept away once a breadstick was dangled in front of her nose.

Cloud was smiling again. How she loved to see that. She'd always thought him attractive, physically or not, but when he smiled, he- everything- it-... was just perfect.

"Have one," he said, and waggled the breadstick.

She reached into the basket and plucked one free. She touched her breadstick to his. "Cheers," she said, poorly keeping a straight face.

He smiled wider. "Cheers." And they both bit into their toasts.

--------

"Really, Cloud."

It was now eight o' clock. Neither had ever taken so long over a meal before and enjoyed it. The wine bottle was three-quarters gone and the weather was absolutely perfect - warm, with the occasional breeze to make Tifa chilly enough to need a coat.

"This really isn't necessary," she told him from her seat, he, walking back to his.

"It is, if you don't want to catch a cold," he replied, amused and concerned all at once. He sat in his seat across from her. He liked the look of his suitjacket draped around her, her stooping to taste the dessert balanced on her fork. It seemed she had dropped her protests. He was glad.

"Do you want some?" she offered. She held her fork out to him, a wedge of mousse with it. She held it over the candle in its glass covering, still flickering despite.

He smiled, showing his perfect teeth (except for _that_ one, a tiny bit crooked, second right from the centre). "I'm okay."

She looked heavenward in a display of brief, playful, annoyance, then popped the slice of dessert between her lips. "You're missing out," she smirked.

"I could say the same for you." He didn't realize that he was mirroring her, smirking in return. "This cake is pretty good." He pointed at his dessert with his fork, spearing some icing in the process.

His suitjacket fell off of her right shoulder then, and she set down her fork and tugged it carefully back on. He couldn't help but smile a little again.

"What time is it?" Tifa asked him, seeing him pop the fork in his mouth to lick chocolate icing off.

He took the fork out, uncrossed his legs, and crossed them again in the opposite position. "A while before we go home."

The surprise on her face was plain. "But, Vincent..." she trailed off.

Cloud looked up at her, pausing to see if she would finish, the gentleman in him. "Vincent's a grown man. And he's managing the bar for you." He tilted his head, looking at her. "Relax."

She furrowed her brows.

"It's your birthday... your night off," Cloud told her, not sure if she needed persuading. His forearm rested on the edge of the table, his wrist arched towards his wineglass.

His words must have worked some magic, because before too long she was eating her slice of mousse again, the last wedge now in her mouth. The in-house pianist was warming up - _The Pink Panther_.

"Do you want to tell me what you have planned?" His suitjacket was sliding slightly off her shoulders again.

Cloud's eyebrows went up, as did the tilt of his gaze, towards the darkening sky. The action was endearing, something she never would have seen two years before. He looked thoughtful before opening his mouth.

"You'll see."

She smiled good-naturedly.

Cloud raised his arm and tilted his chin up, calling out to their waiter, passing by, "Could I get the bill?"

"Surely," he replied.

When Cloud lowered his gaze again, he was met with the sight of Tifa licking off the remaining whipped cream from her fork. His brain stalled momentarily...

The contained clatter of the fork as it met her plate broke him from the slighlty embarassing episode. Ack, Tifa wasn't... like... that. He liked her, and it was weird to think of her any other way than that of a fri-- a childhood-- a fellow guar-- no. It was just weird to think of her that way.

... Except, maybe...

"Cloud?"

"Yes?" He hoped he wasn't blushing like the idiot fourteen-year old he knew he was.

"You just looked a little out of it," she told him now, her face coming into focus. She was holding still, her fingers on the rim of her wineglass, her bracelet already slid down her arm. "Just checking on you," she said. Her cheeks were rosy.

He took the prod in stride, his faux-annoyed suck of tooth purely for her amusement. She had eased away his awkward feelings, just like _that_, after all.

Their waiter materialized at Cloud's side. "Your bill."

Cloud promptly paid and gave Tifa warning looks about trying to comp half.

"So where to?" Tifa asked now, sliding Cloud's suitjacket off, presumably to return it.

Cloud slid his wallet into his pocket without looking. "Inside."

Grown women did not usually make this noise. But it was all Tifa could think of at the moment. "... Huh?" she said, as his suitjacket hit her seat with a small thud.

Her confounded expression sent a smile to Cloud's face immediately. He held out his warm hand, palm up, for her to take. "Come on."

She took his hand, her own feeling significantly colder than his.

He seemed to notice this too. "You should've actually _worn_ my jacket," he half-suggested half-teased.

"That would've felt weird," she murmured, but loudly enough for him to hear.

Cloud thought the opposite. She would've looked wonderful in something of his. She didn't need his protection anymore, and he was glad that small, dinky things like weather changes gave him a chance to take care of her. "You never know," he murmured back.

Tifa followed his lead, her heels clacking on the suddenly wooden floor. The noise was foreign enough to surprise her. "What are we...?" She hadn't realized that she hadn't been paying attention to where they were going. Normally, she wasn't so out of it, but she was distracted, thinking of herself dressed his jacket, his sweaters...

"We're dancing," he answered, smiling down to measure her reaction.

He was getting nervous when _The Gentle Waltz_ began to play. Maybe she--

"But Cloud, we've never danced," she laughed freely.

His eyes lit up, and he took her other hand in his. "So, we learn."

--------

A thin crease of light split the darkened room from the hallway, obstructed in part by the body of one Tifa Lockheart.

She widened the gap to sneak into the room, carrying her high heels in her left hand. Her right hand skimmed the surface of Marlene's forehead, the little girl's chin tucked just outside the crease of her blanket.

The slight creak of the door and soft sounds of socks against hardwood told Tifa that Cloud had made his way into the room. He hovered over Denzel, ruffling the boy's hair. Denzel slept on his stomach.

They looked up at each other in the dark and shared a knowing, happy smile. Then they left together, Cloud reaching for Tifa's hand, closing the door behind him with his free hand.

Exactly ten seconds passed. Marlene snapped her eyes open and so did Denzel. They smirked at each other. Then, to the corner of the room, where an exhausted Vincent Valentine lay sleeping sitting up, his feet sockless.

Denzel held out his hand, palm up, to Marlene across the gap between their beds. Marlene gave him five.

"Happy birthday, Tifa," they giggled, before falling asleep for real.


	3. Interlude: In Which We Examine Weekends

_Disclaimer: Compliation of FFVII does not belong to me._

Author natterings: So I found this floating around my room and decided to type it out. Although I had written it before the conception of _Calendar Days_, I felt that it fit remarkably well. Or maybe I just write cuddly CloTiDenLene all the time. The next _calendar day_ is in the works! 

**

Calendar Days - Interlude

**

The great thing about weekend afternoons was that everyone was home. 

They could laze around for hours in the house if they wanted to. Neither Cloud nor Tifa were particularly good at that though, and one day Marlene and Denzel had to show them. Denzel was reluctant to hold hands, but after awhile he was pulling Cloud along, not too far behind a tugging Marlene and a tugged Tifa. The four of them lay on the grass in the backyard, half asleep and conducting perfectly lazy conversation. They (Cloud and Tifa, and Denzel though he didn't say it outloud) felt kind of self-conscious, but the warm afternoon sunshine had a wonderful way of dealing with that. 

Funny story about the grass, actually. Theirs was the only patch in the city. On a saturday night, Tifa had mentioned, while whirling the lettuce for a salad, that there was nothing green for miles. Denzel glumly pointed out the lettuce. Tifa and Marlene simultaneously said it was good for him. Cloud nodded, and immediately went to thoughts of a landscaper he had met on the road. (It was a secret for weeks.) 

So they had grass. And flowers. They almost had a tree, but Denzel couldn't eat apples or he'd be puffy-eyed for a week. They had bushes instead. It was mostly Marlene tumbling out the back door, a large bowl already in her hands and clasping the wrist of whoever her helper was that day. Sometimes it was Cloud, sometimes Denzel, but most times it was both. She only went out when Tifa was already in the yard, sprinkling the seeds of flowers yet to bloom. And they all went in at the same time, smelling of raspberries and soil and tap water. 

Tifa made iced tea after every berry picking round because Marlene liked the combination of iced tea and raspberries. Cloud usually had about three glasses and Denzel two, so they'd fight over the bathroom sometimes. If Denzel felt devious that day, he'd take an extra long time washing his hands. 


End file.
